


Freedom never tasted so sweet

by myzticbean



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myzticbean/pseuds/myzticbean
Summary: After her husband's funeral, Zilpha is visited by James. She will not be treated as a toy or possession, and sets the record straight. She is free, and her newfound confidence didn't come without cost.Aka, episode 6 fix it - how their first intimate reunion should have happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, episode 6 spoilers of course. This is a short little drabble of how I would have wanted their reunion to have happened, without the random violence and psychotic dreams in canon. 
> 
> Warning for explicit sexual descriptions, though no violence.
> 
> This could be in the "We two alone" universe though it's not necessary to read that one; this is a stand-alone as well.

    our being's heart and home,  
Is with infinitude, and only there;  
With hope it is, hope that can never die.

-William Wordsworth

* * *

 

Zilpha blew gently across her piping hot tea, the delicate teacup cupped protectively in one palm. A small sip, a sigh, and she blissfully closed her eyes in relaxation. Barely breaking the noon hour, Thorne’s funeral had flown by in a haze of confusion after days of planning. There had thankfully been no viewing of the body due to the fear of cholera. His family had stayed well away from her, and she left them to grieve in whatever fashion they chose.

James entered, a barely-controlled thunderous presence in the muted wealth of the café Zilpha preferred when out alone. He slumped in the plush seat across from her, and she could hear murmurs in the café at his appearance, though she valiantly ignored the whispers of gossip rising like a tide.

“James,” she greeted. “We really must stop meeting like this. Did you happen to be…in the neighbourhood?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

He grunted, motioning a server over and gesturing silently towards her cup. The server hastily stepped away to gather another set, and set it down in front of James with tremoring hands. Zilpha reached for the silver teapot herself and poured him a cup, careful not to slosh any over the rim.

“Then I must assume you’ve called on me during my outing for another reason,” Zilpha said after allowing him take a gulp of the hot tea.

He remained silent for a long moment, watching her over the lip of the teacup. She hid her own sly smile with the delicate, painted china. He glanced around at the patrons littering the tables near theirs; Zilpha had grabbed a coveted spot by the window, the sunlight beaming through to splash across the glossy, rich wood.

Without a word, they stood and crammed themselves into other nearby tables whether they were already claimed or not. He glanced back at her now that they were surrounded by empty tables that afforded some small measure of privacy.

“Now that his Highness has made his demands known, how may I serve?” she asked, dipping her head in a mocking bow. She smothered a laugh at his cross expression.

“You are in remarkably high spirits for a very recent widow,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. She discretely eyed the way the shirt tightened deliciously across his broad shoulders. His heavy coat had been removed, which she took to mean it was not just a passing visit.

With the gauntlet thrown, and the eavesdroppers at a discrete distance, it was safe to speak candidly. She settled more comfortably in her chair. “I am in quite good spirits, despite the mending cheekbone,” she admitted. “The bastard fractured it.”

She stroked an absent finger over the stitches and yellowing bruise. “It will likely scar, I’m sure.”

He grunted, irritably waving away the comment. “Not saying he didn’t deserve it. I’d have done worse.”

“It’s more of a hazy dream than a memory,” she confided. “I wish I remembered more.”

“You said…after…that you listened to me. That you did what I told you.” His brows lowered thoughtfully. “I didn’t tell you any such thing.”

Zilpha paused, considering that. It may be true. For days after her abuse and supposed exorcism, she had heard guttural whispers and outraged cries. She had whispered back, pleading for guidance from James. It had encouraged her to wait until the timing was perfect, Thorne’s guard relaxed in sleep. She had found the long, thin metal barb in the stables exactly where the voice had promised it would lie.

“Hm. Most unusual.”

“You don’t seem concerned,” he said, and she almost laughed at how troubled he appeared in her stead.

“James,” she chided. “I was sleeping with my half-brother who then disappeared to Africa, was married to an abusive husband for almost ten years, and conspired to have my father murdered. What could possibly seem more strange in comparison?”

He grimaced and hesitated, obviously wanting to ask more questions, but in the end just took another sip of his tea. She nibbled on a pastry, deftly avoiding her veil, but found she had lost her appetite and pushed the plate away. Instead, she refilled her cup as well as his, and focused on stirring in just a dab of milk and sugar.

“How fares our illustrious stepmother?” Zilpha asked, smirking. She twitched the small decorative bowls holding the sugar cubes back towards him, but he didn’t bother to look down.

His face was blank, hard to read. Once upon a time, she had known every flinch and crease of his expression. She mourned the loss, but with the ease of half-remembered affection.

“I would call upon you this afternoon if you’re available,” he finally said, abruptly setting down his cup on its saucer. He did not answer her question. She calmly inhaled the curling steam, setting it down without a sip. She patted her lips with a napkin, settling it in her lap.

“As you desire, brother.” His eyes flashed angrily at her, and he stood sharply. She admired the view as he stalked away from her without another word, hiding a smile as she peered out the window.

 

* * *

 

Zilpha strode into the foyer after her house calls were completed, unpinning her widow’s veil from her smart little top hat. The house had been thoroughly cleaned by the staff, fresh flowers in gleaming vases scattered through the rooms.

She checked on the kitchen staff, dinner preparations underway. She requested that water be heated and her tub filled in a half-hour’s time.

She made her way up the stairs unhurriedly, removing the pins from her hair one by one as she entered her bedroom. Not _their_ bedroom any longer. No husband interloper in her private sanctuary. He couldn’t pound on her door demanding entrance, read her letters or grope her breasts as he pleased.

She smiled, shoulders loose and relaxed for the first time in years. The almost manic stiffness to her posture creased and crumbled, and she flopped on the bed, laughing giddily in release.

“I am _free_.”

Oh, she was practically a pauper, her husband having no wealth attached to his name that his family wouldn’t squabble to claim. With no child – deliberately on her part – and heir, she was worth less than nothing. She was not profitable or convenient to wed again.

James had gotten rid of the body, through which means she would not look into closely. She knew she would burden him with her expenses, perhaps until she found a suitable means of supporting herself. It wasn’t glamorous but she could be the companion of some wealthy old widow, she supposed. The pay wasn’t great and the danger high for unsavory relations to attempt to take advantage of her company. It was a step down from the meager enjoyment of her place in society, but she wasn’t averse to working in order to remain husbandless.

She sighed, laying a hand across her forehead. Well, it was a thought for another day. She was technically still in mourning, though those she was friendly towards knew enough of her situation to have congratulated her surreptitiously at the funeral.

She heard the servants begin to fill her tub in the adjoining room, and she perched on the side of the bed, unbuttoning her heeled black boots.

Finger combing her tousled locks, she was just about to undress when she heard pounding footsteps up the stairs. Eyeing the door uncertainly, she paused, debating whether she should grab a weapon. Surely her servants would have announced a guest.

James burst through the door, and she shouldn’t have been surprised. It had slipped her mind he would be calling upon her this afternoon, though his behavior suggested this wasn’t to be a polite meeting in the reception room.

“James,” she started to stay, before he interrupted her.

“Take it off.”

She looked at him blankly, glancing around as if for inspiration.

“Take off the _fucking_ dress.”

“Don’t you _fucking_ speak to me that way, James. I just rid myself of one slave owner, and you’ll not treat me similarly or I’ll have you thrown out of this house. Do you understand?” She fairly vibrated in rage, eyeing him angrily from where she stood. He scowled, but nodded.

“Now. My bath is prepared. You may speak with me as I bathe, or you may return at a later date.”

He didn’t bother to answer, removing his coat as she carefully began to disrobe from her black mourning dress. With her maid deliberately absent, she turned her back to James so that he could untie the tight bow at the base of her spine. She could have reached it with a little twisting, but where was the fun in that?

He grunted, his callused fingers fumbling once on the slippery fabric before tugging it rather more harshly than the tie demanded. She said nothing, though, letting him vent his frustration in a fashion that wouldn’t encourage a complete tearing clothes or rough fucking.

“Thank you, my dear,” she said, shimmying out of the dress and placing it on the bed.

Her underclothes were next, and as she unlaced her pantaloons, she bent over as she slipped them over her hips. She grinned at the choked noise he abruptly cut off, slowly standing to step out of the pooled fabric.

“Fetch my wrapper, please,” Zilpha asked, unabashedly nude as she moved towards the separate bathing chamber. She could feel his eyes follow her as she exited the room, and she let out a slow breath when she was alone.

She could do this. She could be strong. She moved towards the mirror, grabbing a few extra hairpins as she wrapped her hair with a sheer cloth to hold it off her shoulders.

James entered, robe in hand as he shut the door calmly. He hung it on the small rack before he propped himself against the door, arms crossed.

He peered at her intently beneath lowered brows, stoic and silent as she fluttered around the room. Zilpha poured in a few salts, scenting the bathwater, before she gingerly stepped into the tub. She had splurged on the large tub, one that could fit her full body rather than just a sitting tub.

Thorne had raged about the cost for ages. It had made the purchase both sweeter and more tiresome.

She relaxed with a sigh, the steamy heat soaking into tired, tense muscles. She lay her head back on a plush towel, and slowly swirled the water with her hands.

“When you came here…what did you expect from me, James?” she asked softly.

“To fuck,” he said curtly. He pushed away from the door to grab a small stool from her vanity and dragged it to the tub, perching on it near the back of her neck. He touched her neck and shoulders; dragged his fingertips along the damp wing of her collarbone. James leaned forward, inhaling deeply with his nose buried at the crown of her head with the pile of her hair soft against his cheeks.

“Is that all?” she questioned. “Only to fuck? Not to speak to me, or worry about me? Not to see the state of the house, or to ensure the loyalty of the servants?”

“Only fuck.”

She hummed, reaching for a washing cloth without moving away from her recline in the tub. She dipped it in the water to dampen, and soaped the cloth with a small, scented cake. She scrubbed at her neck and collar, lazily soaping her breasts at the water line.

Zilpha lifted one leg out of the water, and swirled the cloth soothingly against her thigh and knee. She ignored his quiet groan, his fingers tightening against her shoulders.

“Don’t play with me, Zilpha,” he utters hoarsely. “I’ve waited for you too long.”

“If I was only supposed to be a quick fuck, James, you don’t know the meaning of the word _wait_. I lost you for ten years. I thought you dead. And now you’ve returned a gruff, humorless man, when I longed for the boy who loved and laughed with me.”

“That boy could not protect you,” he snarled. His hands crept too close to her neck, and she had visions that he meant to strangle her. She jerked away from him, leaning forward in her tub and holding the cloth protectively against her breasts.

“You will not handle me roughly,” Zilpha said, voice low and tight. “I’ll not stand for it any longer, not from you, not from anyone else.”

He panted as if he had been running a long distance, and a furious anger stained his cheeks even as his eyes darkened with desire.

“I became a man in the most forsaken continent you could imagine, seeing horrors no boy could withstand. That boy hardened, and became a man willing to do anything to protect those that belonged to him.”

“I am no belonging. I am not a possession or a dragon’s hoard. I am a person. I have feelings, and desires, and dreams of my own.” She gritted her teeth, turning her face from him sharply. She wanted to throw her fist into his face, to smash his cheekbone as hers had been, to make him _see_ her.

The violence of her reaction chilled her, and her rage was snuffed in fear. She pushed away the whispers calling to her.

“I apologize for my anger. It is not towards you. I know that you have helped me,” she finished quietly. “I am just so tired.”

He reached for her shoulders, pulling her back to lean against the tub. He arranged her head, so that it rested once more on her makeshift pillow, and she tried to relax.

“I…know. I know.” He had hesitated. She wondered if he had been ready to apologize, and felt a flicker of amusement that even now he was incapable of admitting a wrong.

She finished lathering her second leg, and deftly washed under the water. Zilpha could feel his hawkish gaze centered squarely on her movements, though they did not speak further.

Finally, she rose from the tub, smoothing the drying towel down her body. James went to grab her wrapper, holding it as he gazed upon her form.

“I want you,” he said gravely. “I still love you.”

She inhaled sharply. “You have done terrible things to me. I want to know you won’t do them any longer. I want to trust that you’ll not hurt me again.”

“I promise.” His voice sounded like gravel and regret.

“Then come to bed with me. Show me.”

 

James deftly undressed as Zilpha reclined on the bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. Sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, the slow buzz of insects loud as the light slowly died and night dawned. His body, hard and tanned from hard work and fierce sunlight, seemed to glow as he approached her bed.

He crawled up her legs to hover on his hands and knees above her, staring into her eyes. They shared a dark gaze; a trait shared from their mutual father.

“Love you. More than anything in this world,” he promised, before bending to press his chapped lips to hers.

She whimpered, the feel of his lips overwhelming after only the briefest brush in the church. She hadn’t trusted herself to give him more; she knew he had always been her greatest weakness.

She opened her mouth as a flower opens to the sun; as intractable as the sunrise. She could do nothing but obey his wordless command, and his tongue thrust sharply between her parted lips. He possessed her, his taste overwhelming after years of dull and bland flavors.

She mimicked his motion, smoothing her tongue along his bottom lip, begging entry.

“More,” she whispered, and now it was his turn to helplessly obey. She parried with his tongue, and whined at the sensation of smooth flesh pressed to flesh.

He drew more firmly against her, lowering his body and she instinctively parted her legs to cradle him closer. His erection pressed to her thigh, and she tightened the muscle, lifting her leg to rub teasingly against him.

He groaned appreciatively into her mouth, thrusting lightly against her leg. She finally dragged her mouth from his, lipping instead at his earlobe playfully before sinking her teeth down in a fierce little bite. He jerked away from her, scowling, before he saw her grin innocently up at him.

He mock growled at her, and she tucked her hands to her chest in playful surrender.

James leaned down, nibbling at her collarbone as he drifted towards her breasts. Small and pert, she watched as he cupped them, shaping them in pleasure. He nipped at one coral tip before soothing the slight sting with a lap of his tongue.

It started a moan from her, and he deftly switched his attention to the neglected breast, laving at her nipple like a starved man. He closed his lips around her, suckling deeply, and she felt an answering pull in her womb.

“Yes, yes,” she sighed, restlessly shaking her head back and forth.

“I want you to scream for me,” he muttered darkly as he continued his trek down her body.

Zilpha laughed breathlessly. “You’ll have to work harder than that, James.”

He nipped her harder this time on her belly, sucking strongly. She could see a bruise already forming after he released her with a small pop, but she did not reprimand him. It was playfully meant, even as his more bestial nature would not allow him complete gentleness.

She thrust her hands into his short, dark hair, scratching her nails against the back of his neck as worshiped her body. She massaged his shoulders idly, digging her fingers into his muscle and laughing softly when he groaned in pleasure.

He gripped her hips between his strong, sure hands, holding her in place. She twitched once before forcing herself to relax, though he didn’t seem to notice. He was focused on her womanhood, breathing in the heady scent of her arousal like an animal scenting the wind.

“You wet already?” he asked, slurring his words as he pressed his mouth to the soft hair at her entrance.

“Why don’t you find out?” she taunted.

He didn’t bother to answer, burying his mouth between her legs. His scratchy beard rustled against the trim dark hair as his tongue burrowed between her lips. Slick and warm, it was a shock to her senses as he brushed against the eager bundle of nerves at the apex.

“James!” she cried out, instinctively clenching her hands possessively around his head as he made hungry noises.

Lapping at her flesh, he brought a hand down and stroked it once, twice across her entrance. Feeling the slickness against her thighs, he slid one digit inside, curving it to touch her as deeply as possible. She gasped sharply, bucking against his mouth and finger.

“More,” she pleaded.

He thrust his finger inside, not roughly but not gently either. She could feel the walls of her cunt tremble in excitement, while his tongue slicked expertly around his fingers. His beard was almost jarring against the bud, her legs twitching at just this side of too much sensation, but she couldn’t stand it if he stopped.

Feeling how ready she was, he slipped another finger inside, and now she could feel the full press of the digits. She trembled, almost scrabbling at him in her eagerness.

“Close,” she said, voice pitched high in desire.

“Not yet,” he demanded, slowing the rhythm of his fingers.

“No, no,” she whined, “please don’t stop.”

“Not. Yet.”

“I won’t, please, just don’t stop.” Despite her promise, she could already feel the spasms of impending orgasm fluttering the walls of her cunt against his fingers.

He drew away, moving back to kneel between her legs, and she cried out piteously.

“Not until I’m inside,” he soothed, his voice rough and low.

He thrust in without further warning, and the warmth of him shocked the breath from her lungs. She could hardly gasp, and he set an almost punishing pace. Her desire backed off as she grew accustomed to the feeling of him inside.

“Big,” she said, when he looked at her questioningly.

He grinned unrepentantly, and she slapped at his arm weakly. One of his palms gripped her thigh, holding her in place, while the other dropped between her legs. With only a few strokes, she was already trembling on the precipice once more.

“James, James,” she panted. His thrusts picked up, and his face tightened in desire.

“Need you to come, love,” he said, the threat clear. He wouldn’t be waiting for her much longer.

She dropped her hand, bumping his out of the way, and with a few expert swipes of her fingers, she could feel the sudden warm clench of her body. Crying out, she gripped his shoulders, holding him as close as she could while she shuddered in his arms.

“That’s it,” he grunted.

He pulled out abruptly, and with a few rough tugs, she felt a spurt of warmth across her belly as she dazedly stared up into his face. He gritted his teeth, a groan caught in his throat as the last tremors of his orgasm finally faded.

James slumped to the side tiredly, throwing one arm across her chest as he lay on his side. She caught her breath, the warmth of his seed quickly cooling on her belly. She was not in a hurry to move or clean up, and lay complacently in his quasi-embrace.

The deepening evening sent shadows racing across the walls of her bedroom, and she began to grow cold. She huddled into his body heat, and he adjusted his hold to pull her more securely against his side.

“James,” she whispered. “I missed you so much.” She could hear the tears in her voice, and tried to swallow them.

“I know,” he mumbled, his lips to her temple.

She cleared her throat after a moment. “Enough of this. Dinner will be served soon. Stay for a meal?” she asked.

He lingered for a moment before groaning and rolling out of the bed. “Quickly. I have places to be tonight.”

Zilpha smiled slightly, standing and donning her wrapper. She would clean and dress, and lead him downstairs. The servants would pretend nothing amiss; they saw nothing, and knew nothing. She paid what coin she had handsomely for such services.

He would leave, off once more into the night to take care of whatever business kept his attention, and she would hope he would return again quickly.

 


End file.
